


Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand)

by twinpeaksrocktoss



Category: Black Mirror, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, SAN JUNIPERO AU BABEY, and mental illness, awkward nerds in love, hermann is a sweetheart, jus give the man some orange juice, mentions of past trauma, unapologetic Wham! stanning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinpeaksrocktoss/pseuds/twinpeaksrocktoss
Summary: Hermann knew San Junipero was a party town, he knew that it was where people went to live forever, but he was just passing through; that is, until he meets Newton Geiszler.





	Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand)

_San Junipero was a party town_ , Hermann thought as his mind was pulled delicately from the nothingness he’d become so familiar with. The first things he saw were the neon lights, unfocused blobs of colour slowly getting smaller and sharper as his eyes acclimatised to sight for the first time in decades. 

The lights told a thousand stories of years he’d missed, years he’d spent motion and mindless but still painfully alive. He blinked, taking enormous satisfaction in the simple act of urging his body to move and it actually obeying him. When his eyes opened, the lights were joined by people, running, soundlessly shouting - they were somehow rushing but also taking their time, savouring each moment while breathlessly seeking the next. 

They moved round him with energy and Hermann was thrilled by the idea that perhaps it was an energy he now shared. He looked down at himself and saw the outfit the system had chosen for him from the pictures his family had obviously uploaded to the cloud. He was wearing the same beige shorts and blue top he’d had on in his favourite picture of him and his sister when he’d received his unconditional offer for the best astrophysics institution in Europe. 

The town finally came alive around him when his ears attuned themselves to the vibrant soundscape of people, music and the waves crashing on the beach behind him. Hermann tightened his grip on his cane, started walking and didn’t stop until he was grinning like an idiot stood in front of a brightly lit neon bar sign boldly declaring that it was named _Tucker's_.

Loud music with a distinctly ‘80s twist drifted out from the thick doors, plastered with peeling posters advertising various deals on cocktails and specific DJ sets; Hermann took his time reading each one, before his attention was pulled away to three people shouting at each other across the road. 

“Dude you legit can’t go in there!” the man with the bow tie and bright red suspenders pointed at a shorter man with the most exquisite, vibrant tattoos spiralling up his bare forearms who just shrugged and gave his beer bottle to the woman holding Bow Tie Man’s hand. 

“How ‘bout I just give it one last try?” the short man laughed, stepping out into the road backwards, standing diagonally between his friends and Hermann, who shrank back away from the club door to try and hide himself. 

“We’ve only got a few hours left, man! Let’s use it for something other than getting black listed again!” Bow Tie Man shouted. 

“I _am_ using it, dude! Let me live,” the smaller man backed all the way over to stand a few feet in front of Hermann, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from his colourful tattoos and bright blue sequinned waistcoat, thrown open over a seemingly home cut vest with ‘ _punch Nazis_ ’ scrawled across the chest in Sharpie. 

He laughed loudly and spun clumsily on his heels to barrel into the club door, releasing all the overlapping sounds from inside the neon lit bar. If Hermann had stepped just a fraction closer, perhaps he would have noticed him, standing awkwardly by the door, watching his every move. He would have spoken to him, maybe laughed boldly as he had before, maybe invited him into the club, maybe he would have been the first person Hermann had touched since his accident. 

The doors slapped shut behind him and Hermann was struck by the realisation that he wanted all those hypotheticals, he wanted them badly. That small, lively, fascinating man; the bar; the town; the purple sky above them. He wanted it all. 

So he shouldered open the club door and followed him in. 

_Tucker’s_ was packed to the walls with people, some dancing, some crowded around the bar or standing by the various arcade games in the corner. They were all grinning and dressed in the most ‘80s clothes Hermann had ever seen. 

The club was an assault on the senses, with flashing lights, thumping music and all the people shouting over each other to be heard. It was a little bit much for Hermann, who berated himself with a small, barely there huff. Of course it would be like this, what else did he expect? _San Junipero was a party town._

Hermann’s attention was drawn to the neon purple logo shining behind the bar. If he was going to stay, perhaps even find that man again, he would be needing a drink. Nothing alcoholic, mind, just something to occupy himself with while the rest of San Junipero danced and leapt around him. 

He’d politely waited to be served beside a couple, both with bleached blonde hair, resting their heads together, hands curled around whisky glasses filled with clear liquid, however apparently politeness was not necessary at _Tuckers_. Whenever the two bartenders were free, Hermann had leaned forward, hand raised a little, to catch their attention, but every time someone bolder would shove their way to the front along the bar and shout for however many fruity cocktails they required. 

His frustration built and built each time some arrogant arsehole clicked their fingers at the two brightly dressed bartenders to the point where he was tempted to lunge over the counter and physically grab either the one with _‘Raleigh’_ printed across his chest or simply climb over and make his drink himself. He only wanted an orange juice, he could see the bottles in the little fridge. 

However, before he could potentially ridicule himself by clambering over the bar, someone placed both their hands on his shoulders and spun him round on his barstool. 

“Go along with whatever I say,” the short man from before hissed, pressing himself flush against Hermann’s body as he squeezed onto the bar stood next to him. 

“Pardon?” Hermann asked, shocked at just about everything from hearing his own voice for the first time in years, to the man’s hands still clasping hold of Hermann’s shoulders. 

“I said go along with whatever I say, yeah?” He slapped Hermann gently on the arm, blindly reached for a strangers neglected drink, downed the whole thing and leant right into Hermann’s space. 

Hermann nodded. 

“Cool,” the man beamed and Hermann fell in love. Or maybe he was having a heart attack. Perhaps being so rudely deprived of his orange juice was causing cardiac arrest. Hermann was about to actually check his own pulse because none of this was healthy, when the man stretched his neck, clearly spotted something and instantly began to enthusiastically babble about- _wait, neuroscience?_

“So you see, the thing about connecting the human central nervous system to the considerably larger, real fucking vast hivemind we have manufactured-“

“Geiszler!” A typically militaristic young man stormed towards them, a little out of breath as if his pursuit of this Geiszler fellow had really worn him out. The image of the small man being able to somehow out manoeuvre his clearly athletic pursuer was immensely amusing to Hermann who could picture it perfectly. “Out, now!”

“Awh, _c’mon Chuck_ , dude,” Geiszler groaned and rolled his head onto Hermann’s shoulder, effectively hanging off him with one arm draped behind his back, gripping onto the other shoulder. “Me and my friend here are just chatting about, oh, _only vital_ and _valuable_ scientific research,” 

“You know the rules, Geiszler,” Chuck folded his arms and stared at Geiszler as he pressed his soft cheek into Hermann’s shoulder. 

“But _science!_ ” Geiszler sat up and actually, truly pouted. 

“Oh yeah? Whatcha talkin about?” The Australian bouncer turned his frown toward Hermann, who felt Geiszler’s grip tighten on his shoulder. 

“The relation between the neural connection interface and the human consciousness when exposed to the relative equilibrium of the-“

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Chuck flapped a hand towards him to shut up, which he did, but not before noting now Geiszler was staring at him with wide, starry eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. “But _he’s_ still not allowed in here,”

“Dude! I’m not even drinking!” The man whined, snapping his softening features back into a petulant expression. “Am I drinking? Raleigh? Dude? Am I drinking?”

“Nope,” Raleigh shrugged, stood directly behind them all, distractedly wiping down absolutely nothing on the pristine worktop, staring at Chuck over their heads. 

Chuck ignored him and pushed past Hermann to lean over the bar and shout, “Mako! Hey, Mako! Is Geiszler drinking?”

“Nope,” the other bartender finished sliding a tray of brightly coloured shots to a trio of young men all shouting over each other. She flipped her cloth over her shoulder and responded with the exact same tone as Raleigh had done. 

Both the barman and Geiszler turned smug expressions onto Chuck who ground his jaw for around seven seconds before pouting a finger directly at Raleigh. 

“He’s your responsibility!” 

With that, Chuck stormed off, shoving through the elated dancers. 

Geiszler whooped and actually punched the air, loudly clapping his hands, “bye bye facist!” 

“Drinks on the house, gentlemen,” Mako set a selection of blue cocktails in front of them as Raleigh grinned and winked at Hermann. 

“Thanking you kindly, Miss Mori!” Geiszler beamed again, his entire face lit up with his energetic joy. “To new friends!” He raised a glass and Hermann tentatively picked up one for himself. The two bartenders joined the toast, but before they could all clink the delicate looking glasses together, Geiszler hastily added, “oh! And science! Science and friendship!”

“Cheers!” Raleigh downed his drink and both he and Mako returned to serving the rather frustrated, shouting customers. 

“Sorry about that, dude,” Geiszler ran a hand through his hair, bare tattoos bathed in the purple neon glow from the _Tucker’s_ logo behind the bar. “Nice touch - the relative equilibrium thing, I’m impressed. I’m Newt, by the way,”

“Dr Hermann Gottlieb,” he offered his hand, instantly cursing his own social ineptitude. 

“Sweet! You are a scientist!” he slapped his palm against Hermann’s outstretched hand instead of shaking it, which instantly confused him, but then did a full, three hundred and sixty degree swivel on his barstool. “That’s so freaking awesome, Hermslice, I’m a scientist too!”

“Really?” Hermann asked, before he could stop his mouth from insulting this annoying, _beautiful_ , if completely mental man who was, for some unknown reason, talking to him. 

“Yeah, dude,” he sipped another drink slid toward them by Raleigh. “Guess you’re wonderin’ why a genius scientist like myself is on Herc Hansen’s blacklist, huh?”

“Herc Hansen? As in-“

“Yeah the main security dude - that delightful little shit was his son,” Geiszler pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, sleeveless sequinned jacket showing off the bold ink stretching from his wrists all across his chest. “Mako ‘n’ Raleigh are staff too, Herc and Stacker run a tight ship,”

“You know them?” Hermann asked, transfixed by both his words and the slight dusting of glitter clinging to his face, adding little specks of blue light amongst his freckles. 

“Well! That’s the kicker, Hermslice,” he leant against the bar, hand knotted in his own hair, stretching his neck to flick his gaze all over Hermann’s face, causing him to blush a little under the scrutiny. “I’m not _supposed_ to know them,”

“Oh?”

“So when we’re in here, right, technically we’re more here-“ he gestured widely to the club, then tapped his forehead, “-than we are here,” 

“Yes, I do understand the basic principles which allow us to exist in hivemind The Cloud, Newton,” Hermann tutted, feeling a little bolder now that the conversation had shifted to a vaguely intellectual field. 

_“Newton?”_ He barked a loud guffaw, bending over on his stool to almost hit his head against Hermann’s knee as he laughed. 

“I simply assumed that your parents would not have merely named you ‘Newt’-“ Hermann definitely felt his cheeks flush red, but was reassured by the fact that the neon sign was bathing everyone in pinky purple light anyway. 

“I get the feeling that you don’t _simply_ do anything, Hermslice,” Newt looked at him, a sort of distant, but by no means vacant expression capturing his distinctly attractive features. 

“What are you doing?” Hermann asked when the staring went on for three whole awkward sips of his drink; Newt hadn’t touched his since his laughing fit. 

“I’m- _regarding_ you,” the corners of his mouth twitched up, tongue swiping across his lips. He sat up a little straighter, as if he’d found his conclusion. “Why the cane?” 

“Pardon?” Hermann tried to appear as if Newt’s question hadn’t thrown him completely. 

“I mean, it would make sense out there, but here, you don’t need it, right? I don’t really need my glasses, but they’re comforting, normal, ya know,” Newt tapped the thick frames, before running the same finger across the handle of the cane which rested almost forgotten against the bar. 

“Comforting?”

“Well, yeah,” he carried on staring at the cane, refusing to meet Hermann’s eyes, dark flush spreading across his cheeks. “I-uh, like overshare right now, but I used to get real bad hallucinations from the ol’ cocktail of mental health issues I had to deal with out there, so like, I would take my glasses off and if the thing was still in perfect focus, I knew it wasn’t real... so, yeah I guess I just find them comforting,” 

Hermann was tempted to do something radical like take the man’s hand, but instead he just placed his restless hand onto his cane. 

“I suppose this must have been a similar... safety mechanism, if you like,” he picked it up and wondered himself why his mind had decided to give him such an object.

After his accident, he had resurfaced from a coma only a handful of times, before the hospital staff put him back under as the pain in his leg was just too much. They were supposed to be working on some kind of miracle cure, but clearly the San Junipero program had been a more viable option. 

“Hey man, I’m not judging, it’s cool,” Newt grinned, reaching across the bar to pluck two cocktail umbrellas from a box, pressing his entire body back, flush against Hermann’s again. “I mean-“ he offered Hermann an orange umbrella, “- look at the state of me,”

“What _are_ those?” Hermann resisted the overwhelming urge to run his fingers over the patterns inked onto his skin. 

“I call them _Kaiju_ ,” Newt beamed with pride, presenting both arms for inspection. 

“ _Giant beasts?_ ” 

“Yup! I was a biologist, well, specifically marine biology and I was the best in the world,” he preened, slowly turning his arms so Hermann could get a better view of the stylised green hammerhead shark and blue whale on his forearms. 

“They’re...” _beautiful_ , Hermann wanted to say. “Fascinating,” _coward_. 

“I know, right!” Newt bounced on his stool, tucking a blue umbrella behind his ear. 

Hermann realised he been awkwardly gripping the little orange paper decoration in his hands, so decided to place is gently on the bar. 

“So, you know Stacker Pentecost?” He asked, faintly remembering some promise of a thrilling tale from the small, enthusiastic man. 

“Shit yeah!” He scooped up the umbrella and popped it behind Hermann’s ear, leaning right into his space, breath warm on his cheek. 

For someone who had been starved of human contact for decades, Hermann really was very controlled - half of him wanted to run out of the club, disconnect from The Cloud and never return, but the other half wanted to lean into Newt’s hand, close his eyes and softly beg that he never let go. 

“I’m a genius, right,” he winked. “So I think, shit, what if I can upload myself into the more... administrative section of The Cloud, right? Like, where Mako, Raleigh, Chuck and all the other staff go to communicate with the outsiders,”

Hermann nodded, following as the purple pink and blue glow stick bracelets around his wrists lit up his wild gestures. 

“So I build a unit of my own and basically break into the staff only section using shit I found out the back of the cinema complex,” he looked incredibly proud for someone who had been blacklisted by Stacker Pentecost, _(head of the entire San Junipero project)_ and had risked his life to try and prove some insane point. 

“That was-“

“Awesome!”

“Stupendously reckless,” Hermann frowned. 

“Yeah, but like, it was no big deal! I just got a little detention and Chuck’s now on my ass every night I’m here making sure I follow Stacker’s fucking dumbass rules like _‘no drinking’_ like what even is that?” He flapped a flippant hand and pouted again. 

“Well if Pentecost has explicitly instructed you not to, perhaps you shouldn’t be-“

“Oh chill out Hermslice,” he grinned. “Mako and Raleigh wouldn’t be helping me out if it was anything serious. They _are_ staff, after all,” 

Hermann just hummed, not quite disapprovingly, but not entirely convinced either. 

“What about you, Hermslice?” Newt stretched his back, clearly not used to staying sat on one stool for so long, even if he’d not been even remotely still. 

“Oh, I’m just visiting, this is my first time,” 

“ _First time_ , huh?” Newt raised one eyebrow and curled the left side of his mouth upward, causing an absolutely raging blush to flood Hermann’s face when he realised the implications of his wording. 

“I mean, I have never been to San Junipero before,” he spluttered, near crumbling under Newt’s amused gaze. 

“I’m messin’ with you, dude,” he grinned. “I’m not a permanent resident either, just passing through before I’m gone, tryina have the most rad, groovy time,”

“And are you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you having the most- _rad and groovy time?_ ” Hermann smiled a little, taking a sip of the strongly alcoholic beverage Raleigh had given him earlier. It felt strange to actually taste anything. 

“Oh man, I could listen to you say those words forever, dude!” He laughed, but gently this time. “Yes, yes I am. But I _just know_ it’d be, like, majorly improved if you told me _your_ story,” 

“Oh, no,” Hermann shook his head, feeling as though if he did indeed tell Newt about how and why he had ended up at San Junipero it would completely slaughter the easy, friendly, maybe even flirtatious conversation they’d been nurturing. 

“Oh come on! That just makes me think it must be super exciting,” he whined, swinging his legs which didn’t even skim the floor. 

“It’s really not,” 

“Well lucky for you,” Newt rolled his head to look intensely at Hermann over the top of the glasses he didn’t actually need. “I’m a _very engaging_ audience, I’ll make any story feel like the first Jurassic Park movie,” 

“I like that film,” Hermann offered quietly, barely audible over the fading outro of an old Eurythmics song blasted over the speaker system. 

“No no no, Hermslice, you can’t change the subject, not even with the second best movie of all time,” he pointed at Hermann, giving him a close up view of his sparkly blue nails. He was about to speak again when the song changed, a synthesised finger click projected around the club. 

“OH SHIT!” Newt sprang up, the little blue umbrella becoming dislodged from behind his ear and falling to the floor. “Hermslice we gotta dance, like right now, this instant,” 

“Pardon?” 

“ _WHAM!_ DUDE! C’mon! We have to dance!” Newt grabbed both of Hermann’s hands, his cane clattering to the floor. 

“What, together?” Hermann asked, hesitance not strong enough to stop him from being led by Newt into the centre of the floor. “I don’t dance-“

“Ah, c’mon, let’s not limit ourselves!”

“Newton, I can’t-“

“My ass you can’t!”

“I’ll look- Newton, I-I’ll look _ridiculous_ and-“

“Just follow my lead,” Newt winked, pulling Hermann fully against him. 

He started to roll his shoulders and sway his hips to the music, moving Hermann’s arms around by their connected hands, loudly singing along to the vocal melody. His dancing was bold and looked as if each move had been taken directly from a music video, while Hermann felt as if his entire body was stiffly rooted to one point on the floor. 

“Just copy me!” Newt shouted over the music and let go of Hermann’s hands to start busting out some dance moves straight out of a 70s disco film. 

No matter how ridiculous Newt looked while popping his hips from side to side and spinning round with his arms in the air, he was unquestionably and immensely enjoying himself; a bright grin splitting his face, laughter stuttering his attempts at singing along to the song. 

So Hermann gradually allowed himself to relax, trying his best to copy Newt’s enthusiastic movements, a hesitant smile betraying his enjoyment to the smaller man who seemed to brighten even further when he noticed that perhaps Hermann didn’t completely hate every second of their awkward dancing. 

Hermann copied Newt’s next moves, and had to admit to himself that he was getting better. He started to _genuinely have fun_ , losing himself in the remarkable way he and Newt managed to start laughing at the same times, how their bodies were by no means fluid or particularly agile, but still managed to fit together in some kind of awkward parody of dancing. 

“You’re getting it!” Newt shouted, spinning round, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops and shaking his ass from side to side. Hermann carried on his strange swaying, but without Newt’s guidance, he started to slow down. _People were watching_ ; the two of them dancing had been fine, enjoyable, even, but Hermann was decidedly not comfortable with an audience, even if the other dancers were far more focussed on themselves. 

The music very suddenly became too loud, the people too close, Newt too much, too good for him, too alive for someone like Hermann. 

While Newt’s back was turned, Hermann practically sprinted back to collect his cane and marched toward the fire escape to flee in a mess of self-consciousness and embarrassment. 

Perhaps Newt would follow him, or maybe he’d just pick up another partner and carry on with his _rad and groovy time_. The latter was more likely, Hermann thought sadly to himself as he pushed open the door and stepped outside into a downpour. 

The rain was so thick and heavy Hermann couldn’t even calm himself down by identifying comfortingly familiar constellations scattered across the sky. 

He was cold, disappointed in himself and very rapidly approaching the conclusion that perhaps San Junipero wasn’t the kind of place he wanted to spend forever in. 

“Hey! Hermslice,” Newt emerged from the fire escape door, clumsily closing it behind him. “Why’d you run away?”

“Sorry,” Hermann offered feebly. “I did forewarn you of my considerable inability to dance,”

“Yeah, no shit,” Newt laughed, but seemed to notice that perhaps his response hadn’t been appropriate. “Kidding, dude. I’m the one who should be sorry - I was having a really fucking good time, right, and I pushed you into it. It’s only Saturday night once a week, dude, it’s like no time - I get impatient,”

“It’s not that,” Hermann sat down on a low wall. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was dry, nestled beneath an alcove. “People were... _looking_ ,”

Newt tilted his head, clearly confused. 

“Well, they were looking at us, two men, dancing with each other,” Hermann felt his cheeks heat up furiously, so he stared resolutely at raindrops loudly bombarding a nearby puddle. 

“Okay, number one, people are way less uptight about that kinda thing than they used to be, and two, this is a party town, no ones judging,” Newt placed his hands on his hips. “Besides, if they were, they’d be looking because _I. Am. Bodacious!_ ” He moved his body in an exaggerated attempt at some kind of ‘sexy’ body roll. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Hermann found himself smiling nonetheless. 

“Thank you!” He beamed and plopped himself down next to him, respectfully distant, but still quite close. 

“I’ve never been on a dance floor before,” Hermann admitted in a quiet voice, staring at the puddle again. 

“What, _never_? Like, never in your fucking entire life, never?” 

Hermann shook his head. 

“Well, for a proper beginner, I give you a... six out of ten,” Newt grinned, knocking his shoulder into Hermann’s, causing him to pull his gaze from the puddle up to stare at Newt’s face. 

“Thank you?” Hermann frowned a little, wondering if that was a compliment or constructive criticism. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I suppose,” he shrugged, but his twitchy smile gave away that yes, yes he really did. 

“Success!” Newt punched the air as he had done earlier, grinning like an idiot. 

“I have sort of always wanted to, but-“ he stopped himself. He didn’t want to talk about his accident, not with Newt, not tonight. 

“What _else_ have you always wanted to do, but never had the chance?” Newt edged closer, leaning his shoulder into Hermann’s. 

“Oh, so many things,” Hermann glanced at Newt, before staring up at the sky, nerves and excitement flooding his entire body. 

“San Junipero’s a party town, all up for grabs,” Newt’s voice has gone quiet, almost shy. “Midnight’s two hours away,”

“That’s not long,” Hermann’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt Newt’s breath on his neck. 

“Then why waste time just sitting here?” Newt placed a hand gently on Hermann’s inner thigh and suddenly his whole world began to spin. 

Hermann abruptly stood, face flaming red, mainly out of embarrassment about his own inability to just be normal and let himself go. He realised that he’d been secretly hoping that his night would end with something like this, with someone like Newt, but he just wasn’t ready. 

“I-I am- I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“Hey man, its okay,” Newt leaned back on the wall, smiling with very pink cheeks. 

“I- you seem- uh, I just,” 

“Hermann,” Newt stayed sat down, legs swinging again. “Really, dude, its fine,”

“I’ve never done anything like that,” Hermann breathed, reassured by Newt’s completely calm reaction to his all out panic. For the first time in the evening, Hermann was the one with the chaotic energy. 

“Look, if you wanna come home with me I can get us back in like,” he snapped his fingers, still smiling warmly at Hermann. 

“I-I,” he wanted to say how much he’d love to, how he didn’t want the night to end, but he ended up settling with, “I can’t,”

“Okay,” 

“I have to go,” 

“In this?” Newt gestured to the hammering rain, finally heaving himself up off the wall to stand opposite Hermann. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Hermann offered his hand to shake, aware that he was blushing harder than he had ever done before. 

Newt looked down at the hand in amusement, but shook it firmly, “likewise, Hermslice,” 

Hermann took a moment to study Newt’s honest smile, before turning sharply and hurriedly walking away down the alleyway, cane slapping against the ground only just louder than the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> there we go folks - I'm planning a second chapter so lemme know if I should carry on with this lmao


End file.
